Perspective
by doctorkaitlyn
Summary: When Glenn's mother and her boyfriend Shane show up for Christmas dinner, Shane is surprised by a few things. One, dinner smells way better than he expected. Two, Glenn's apartment is actually clean. Three, the door is being answered by a cigarette smoking man who must be forty years old. Part 3 of 4 in the Age is Just a Number series.


**Author's Note: **As I'm sure some of you know, this has been up on AO3 for almost two months, but apparently it completely slipped my mind to put it up here. But now that's been fixed, so I'd like to welcome you all to part three of four in the Age is Just a Number series. Part four should be up fairly soon and in the meantime, I hope you all enjoy. xo.

**Perspective.**

When he knocks on the door of Glenn's apartment, fingers still red from the cold, Shane isn't sure what will lie beyond. It's the first time him and Sheila have visited Glenn since he moved out rather abruptly but he can only guess that the place is an absolute mess; eighteen year olds living on their own aren't exactly known for their cleaning skills. As for the Christmas dinner he's promised them, Shane is even more skeptical. Sheila has never mentioned her son to have exceptional cooking skills so he has a feeling most of the ingredients will be store-bought the day before and will taste less than delectable.

When the door swings open, he's surprised by a few things. One: from what he can see of the apartment, it's certainly lived in but not messy. Two: whatever is lying in wait in the kitchen smells, very, very good.

Three: the man who has answered the door is _not_ Glenn. He's at least twenty years older, face covered in stubble, hair an inch longer than Shane considers presentable. There's a cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth, nearly burned down to the filter and suddenly, Shane is very, very confused.

"Daryl?" Thankfully, Sheila speaks up, which gives him more time to ponder the situation. The name sounds familiar to him, as if it was mentioned in passing once, but he can't quite place it. The look on Sheila's face, however, indicates that this isn't a good development. Even under her makeup, he can see that she's gone pale and her hand is tense in his, fingers squeezing until his knuckles ache.

"I'm gonna assume that the kid didn't tell you," Daryl says, opening the door wider and stepping inside. "I told him to but I guess he didn't listen." He heads back into the apartment, stubbing his cigarette into an ashtray beside the front door. There's Christmas music coming from inside and if Shane listens carefully, he thinks that he can hear Glenn singing along with it.

"Sheila, are you okay?" Even with Daryl gone from the doorway, she's still pale and tense, like there's anywhere in the world she'd rather be.

"Remember that guy I mentioned?" she says softly, still staring into the apartment. "The one who… slept with Glenn?"

Oh. Oh _shit_. Now Shane remembers the situation and he feels almost overwhelmingly angry. Sheila had told him the story once, after they'd been dating for a month or so, after Glenn had already moved out and he had never been more disgusted by someone in his life. And now they were expected to have Christmas dinner with the bastard?

Glenn had a lot of fucking nerve.

"Sheila, if you want, we can go back home," he says, turning so that he can face her properly. "We can have our own Christmas dinner, just you and me, what do you say?"

"It's fine, Shane." The smile she gives him is obviously fake but the reassuring squeeze of his hand is a warning not to question it. "We can get through this." Shane does his best to return the smile but he's certain his looks even more fake because inside, he just knows that this is a bad idea and it's going to end in tears.

But if Sheila wants to attempt it, he's not going to stop her. It's not his place.

When they finally step into the apartment, closing the door behind them, Shane can't help but cough; the smell of smoke lingers over every inch of the place and even though it's a small thing (it isn't the first time he's dealt with smokers), it makes him dislike Daryl even more. The apartment is a weird hybrid of adult and teenager; the hall closet is filled with dirty work boots and raggedy sneakers and Glenn's schoolbag is resting in the hallway with a bright yellow construction helmet on top of it. When they reach the living room, cramped with furniture, he notices the set of deer antlers over the television and he can't help but laugh, because it's just so goddamn _hick_, even if the antlers are covered in belts and a tie or two.

Then the realization hits him like a brick to the head. Daryl isn't just with Glenn, they're _living_ together. There's too much stuff for him to just be staying over once in awhile. Him and Sheila aren't even living together, not technically; sure, he only rarely ventured back to his apartment but most of his stuff was still there.

He's really, really not okay with this.

Glenn finally emerges from the kitchen, some kind of sauce splattered on his hands, grinning like a child. When he hugs his mother, most of the tension disappears. Shane gets a _hey man_ and a slightly smaller smile, but no hug. Daryl comes out of the door Shane presumes leads to the bedroom, wearing a new shirt that seems to have less holes in it than the one he'd been wearing when he'd answered the door. For a few moments, there's an almost palpable awkwardness in the room and then Sheila gives Daryl a hug. It's still awkward and they hardly touch but still, it's more than Shane expected.

"You must be Shane," he says when he pulls away, holding out his hand. There's a few seconds where Shane considers just leaving him hanging but one stern look from Sheila swiftly erases that notion and he participates in probably the shortest handshake ever.

"Daryl, can you look after the food for a bit? I think me and my mom need to talk."

_You're damn right you need to talk_ is what Shane wants to say but he manages to keep his mouth shut, barely. If Glenn and Sheila are talking, it gives him time to talk to Daryl. He knows that technically, it ain't really any of his business but the truth is that he really isn't cool with the situation and if he doesn't say something about it, he's going to explode during dinner and he really doesn't want to do that around Sheila.

"Sure. But if anythin' burns, I'm not taking responsibility." Glenn and Sheila head for the couch, which looks like it could use a good patch job and he follows Daryl into the kitchen. The rickety table looks like it's about to collapse under the weight of all the dishes and food piled on top of it and for a few moments, Shane is actually impressed. The kid has seemingly tried his hardest to put out a nice spread and it actually looks pretty good.

Then Shane remembers the task at hand and he leans against the counter, watching Daryl poke around with whatever is cooking in the oven. When he's done with that, he turns around and mirrors Shane's position, leaning against the stove.

"Go on," he says, crossing his arms in a classic gesture of defiance. "Say your damn piece already."

"How old are you?" It seems like the best place to start; he knows Daryl is at least fifteen years older than Glenn, probably more but he's curious to know the exact number.

"Don't see how that's any of yer goddamn business," Daryl mutters, picking dirt out from underneath his fingernails. "Don't see how it matters either." For a few seconds, Shane finds himself actually spluttering, completely at a loss for words. He isn't sure if Daryl's actually being serious or just trying to rile him up but either way, he's pissed.

"You don't see how that matters?" He takes a deep breath and forces himself to lower his voice. "That kid in there? He's eighteen years old-"

"No shit."

"-and he's way too young to be tied down, especially with someone old enough to be his dad. He needs some time to figure himself out, you understand?" Really, Shane just wants to call Daryl a sicko for being with someone young enough to be his child but he has a feeling that would just start a fistfight and, for Sheila's sake, he's really trying to avoid that.

"And who the hell do you think you are?" Daryl stops cleaning his fingernails and looks up, fixing Shane with a look that actually makes him feel intimidated. "It's one thing for his momma to tell him that but what about you? You ain't his father."

"Well, not yet. But maybe someday, I will be." That isn't just a bluff; even though it's only been a few months, Shane has already started looking at engagement rings during his free time. Sheila had made him into an honest (or, mostly honest) man when he'd been convinced that was impossible and he liked to think he'd done the same for her.

"Well, till you're his dad, I think your authority is pretty well non-existent. You might not believe it Shane, but we're pretty damn happy and I'm gonna be sticking around for awhile. Deal with it." One hand drawn into a fist, Daryl turns to leave, muttering something vulgar under his breath.

"Did you use her?" After he says the words, Shane feels a little guilty; it was a harsh accusation to throw out so suddenly but it was something he'd been wondering. Daryl pauses in the doorway, his eyes drawn into the living room where Shane can hear Glenn and his mom laughing about something. Apparently, their conversation had gone a lot better than Shane's had.

"Not at the start," Daryl finally sighs, fingernails of his right hand digging into the door frame. "It didn't start out that way." He turns his head and Shane can see, from the expression on his face and the emotions in his eyes, that he's telling the truth.

"Look, what I did to her? It weren't right. I know that, but she seems to be doing pretty well for herself, right? 'Sides, you love her, don't you?" Shane just nods and Daryl chuckles slightly, his hair falling in front of his eyes when he turns his head back around.

"Then don't complain 'bout me leaving her." With that, he disappears into the living room and Shane is left to concede that, much as he dislikes the man, Daryl's last remark had been pretty accurate. If Daryl had never slept with Glenn, he wouldn't have ever ended up with Sheila and that's a thought he doesn't like.

Still. His opinion of Daryl is still quite low and that probably isn't going to change anytime soon.

When they eat, it's in the living room, in front of the television. He and Sheila take the couch, Daryl takes an armchair near the balcony doors and Glenn sits at his feet, head leaning back against Daryl's knee. It's obvious to him that Sheila still isn't one hundred percent comfortable with the environment but she is noticeably less tense and she even laughs a little bit when Daryl makes a few jokes about the terrible Christmas special that's on. Mainly, her and Glenn do the talking, going a mile a minute, catching up on everything. Shane mainly observes and eats, having seconds of what is a very decent Christmas dinner.

What he observes is Glenn and Daryl. He isn't sure what he'd been expecting to see between them but they're remarkably restrained. The only real physical sign of affection that he sees between them is when Daryl is done eating and has set his plate aside. One of his hands trails down to rest on the back of Glenn's neck and just sits there, playing with the longer strands of hair. Glenn shuts his eyes and leans his head back, smiling and he looks so damn happy. Shane is actually dumbfounded.

They stick around until nearly midnight; Sheila tries over and over again to convince Glenn to let her do the dishes but every time she tries to sneak off into the kitchen, Glenn springs off the floor and practically chases her back to the couch. Daryl chuckles every time and Shane can't quite believe that he's seeing the same man that he'd argued with in the kitchen. He looks so much lighter, for lack of a better word and when he looks at Glenn, it's with something that goes beyond mere lust or anything lecherous. Quite simply, it looks like he really, really loves Glenn and truthfully, Shane isn't entirely sure how to deal with that.

When Glenn shows them to the door, he hugs his mother for what seems like five minutes, both of them promising to call each other soon. Once Sheila pulls away, Shane can see that she actually has tears in the corners of her eyes, which she quickly wipes away. He has a feeling that things aren't quite one hundred percent between her and Glenn yet (the situation is too fucked up to be fixed that quickly) but progress is certainly being made. As they walk down to their car, Sheila smiles wide and talks about Glenn's apartment, about the things she wants to pick up for him. Shane just goes along with her, nodding in the right places because he's still at a loss for words.

When they reach the parking lot, he takes a look back and sees Glenn and Daryl both on the balcony, three stories up. Glenn's back is against the railing and Daryl has one arm around him; the other is holding a cigarette, as always. They're lost in their own little world and for a few seconds, Shane almost forgets about the fact that Daryl is kind of an asshole who happens to be way too old for Glenn.

Daryl spots them and gives a quick wave before going back to Glenn, his breath showing in the air as they talk about something or another. Just before he climbs in the driver's seat, Shane hears Glenn laugh, an honest to goodness laugh that echoes around the parking lot.

Before he starts the car, he takes one last glimpse at his future stepson. Daryl's cigarette has disappeared and now he's got both arms wrapped around Glenn, palms splayed across his back as they kiss. The sight makes Shane a little uncomfortable but it isn't nearly as horrific as he'd expected at the beginning of the night.  
The bottom line is that he's still not entirely cool with the situation as a whole. He wasn't exactly raised to be one hundred percent tolerant; not homophobic per se, but he isn't completely comfortable around two gay men. Jumping over that hurdle in one night was doable but getting over the age difference and the history Daryl had with Sheila was going to take quite some time.

But if Daryl continues to make Glenn happy, he thinks that, one day, if Sheila keeps him around that long, he might just be cool with it.

Maybe.


End file.
